Judith

It is a believer who speaks before you, one who does not worry, on a day that is infinitely sad, that one may possess neither faith nor hope, because he has no doubt that we hold towards her this charity, one calls love.

A love for Judith, like for her father, constantly proposes, demands of us, what a genitive itself consists of. The love with which she would love you, the love with which you would love her, if you have at least tried never to do harm. For us who have loved her, who will always remember her, and love her still.

Brothers in humanity, who after her live on, dare say at the very least it is within our reach, to rejoice over the living being? A very important life.

And to do so, even if the sadness, in mourning, its pain, interminable, suggests we be hushed, because “the rest is silence,” very well! “The rest is silence,” yet among us speaking beings (les parlêtres), in the face of eternal silence, there is still the word.

Guitrancourt, 12 December 2017“Judith” by François Regnault was first published in Lacan Quotidien 756, December 19th, 2017
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